Not Diddling Sisters
by snippetcentric
Summary: A prequel of sorts to 'Diddling Sisters'. Hawke's side of the story.
1. Magical Fingers

A/N: I swear I'm working on Martyr's Plight. But...this pairing is just... *froths in the mouth.* Thanks goes to th1nm1nt for the beta!

Disclaimer: Dragon Age isn't mine but Bioware and EA's. If it were Bethany would have been an LI. Derivative work is, however, mine.

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><p>It all started innocently enough. Marian had always taken pride in being the eldest, doting upon her younger twin siblings, Bethany and Carver, almost as much as their parents had; so much so that at the tender age of four she already knew how to change diapers. She tried her best to treat the twins equally and had done a good job of it; Marian fondly recalled how the twins would squabble and tug on her shirt, badgering her with "I'm your favorite, right, Marian, <em>right?"<em>

That was until Bethany's magical talent revealed itself. Marian recalled how she and Carver were sitting on the corner of their sick sister's bed as their parents prepared elfroot in chicken broth. While Carver chattered about the day his twin missed, Marian was right beside sniffling Bethany, wiping her nose as the latter complained about the chilliness of the room. On cue, Bethany sneezed and froze her sister's hand. Looking back she should have been more worried about the danger of frostbite, but the woeful sight of Bethany's whimpered crying that night was more painful than the biting cold around her fingers. They left town days later in fear of templar discovery.

It was then Marian swore she'd do anything to keep her sister from crying; thus it became imperative that she learn how to protect Bethany from the Chantry. She had been a slight thing when she first demanded swordplay training from her ex-mercenary father; how swordplay became dagger-work she could not recall. Unfortunately, between training and doting on their increasingly isolated sister, Marian had little time for Carver and before she knew it, he became an antagonistic tit who constantly tested her patience. Still, she did her best to be the loving eldest, notwithstanding the constant need of running for their lives and away from Chantry scrutiny.

It was only in quiet and rural Lothering that the Hawke family found respite; the templars were more keen on keeping an eye out for the fabled 'Witch of the Wilds' and Bethany had gained enough control of her talents. Marian thought that they would finally live in peaceful obscurity but alas, the Hawke sisters proved too pretty for that fate.

She still could recall how puzzled she was when elder Miriam first saw her and Bethany. "Are you Leandra's daughters? My, what lovely young ladies!" the woman said. Bethany, blossoming teen and femininity embodied she could agree with, but _her_? Marian never did have the flair for vanity. She paid the comment no heed until they were summoned for Lothering's centennial festival. Neighborly to a fault, the sisters obliged, only to be suckered into dressing in virginal white and, along with other fine lassies, into flitting upon a vat full of grapes that were destined to be Lothering vint 9:25. Despite Bethany's initial apprehension with the attention, she eventually enjoyed the festivities. It was the first time Marian saw her sister so carefree since learning of her talent. Years passed and Marian could still vividly recall that day; Bethany's dark locks tousling and bouncing with each joyful stomp, brown eyes glittering in laughter and those ruby lips in a wide smile. The lurid staring at Bethany's blooming curves through the thin, juice-spattered dress came later.

Really.

Marian was of course mortified, denying it to herself for five whole years; instead redirecting her desires by lavishing Bethany with so much maternal love it put Leandra to shame. When that didn't work, she along with Carver joined the army. It crushed Bethany's heart but she braved that and took it as a triumph over her inappropriate affection. Unfortunately, that career path was short-lived and a month later they were right back at their doorstep, bloody and bruised. Thankfully, dear sweet Bethany was right there to fix it.

It took just one press of those magical healing fingers to her lips for Marian to accept it.

Marian Hawke was smitten with Bethany Hawke.

An older sister smitten with a younger sister.

She wished the ogre had picked her instead.


	2. Orlesian Toast

A/N: I meant to say something witty but it eludes me at the moment. Thanks for the reviews, everyone! It keeps the idea-machine in my head brewing. Thanks to th1nnie for proofing!

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><p>The sun had yet to rise and Marian was already in the makeshift kitchen of her uncle's hovel. She beat the egg, cinnamon, and milk mixture as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake anyone yet, most of all Bethany. She wanted to surprise her sister with a hearty breakfast for once and the girl sure loved Orlesian toast. It wasn't often that Marian could get her hands on cinnamon and they were fortunate to find a hefty supply in Athenril's latest assignment. The elf, greedy tyrant that she was, paid her in kind and said "Can't make money off of that." Cinnamon, she meant. So she had a crateful of said spice in the house. At least it smelled better than old cabbage.<p>

Mix properly beaten, Marian began slicing a relatively fresh bread loaf. Elegant owed them a favor (her life, actually) and in return had one of her paramours supply her family with whatever leftovers he had in his bakery. One of these days she'd have to rescue a butcher if just for the steady supply of meat. Chuckling at the thought, Marian dunked two slices of bread in the mixture then moved to heat the pan. Soon, the appetizing scent of toast filled the small abode. Oh, how Bethany would love it. As she flipped the toasts, she imagined Bethany throwing her arms around her and saying, "Oh Sister I love your toast and I love you too!" And then she'd offer her naked body to serve as a plate. Marian blushed at the thought. A bit of imagination wouldn't hurt, would it?

Marian was just finishing the first batch when a squeaky door opened behind her. Expecting it to be Bethany, she whirled around all smiles and piped, "Good morn-aaah Uncle." Marian ignored Gamlen's irritated sneer and turned back to the fireplace cum stove. "Bread for breakfast," she said as she pointed at the leftover loaf beside her.

Gamlen ignored the plain bread and instead hovered above the piping hot toasts beside Marian. "You're making Orlesian toast?" he asked, already reaching out to a piece.

She slapped Gamlen's hand before he could touch a slice.

"Ow!"

"Wait for Mother and Bethany," Marian ordered as she lay the second batch of toasts on the small pan.

"But it will be cold by then!" Gamlen protested as he rubbed his sore hand.

She only shrugged. "Bethany can warm it up for you."

Gamlen muttered something about cheeky brats and bloody apostates as he sat by the raggedy table. Marian's lips tugged into a smile as she shook the sticky toasts loose; she should be more respectful towards her uncle considering what he had done for her and her family but picking on him was proving to be an enjoyable past time.

"Good morning," greeted Leandra as she stepped out of her room, looking fresh out of sleep. She walked to her daughter and looked over the girl's shoulder. "I'm sorry I woke late, _I _should be making you breakfast," Leandra sighed.

"It's fine, Mother, I meant to wake ahead of you," Marian said as she kissed her mother's cheek then offered the first batch. "Have them while they're hot."

"Wait for your Mother _and _Bethany, eh?" Gamlen huffed from his seat.

"That or 'no uncle you can't have any'."

"Bah," Gamlen grumbled as Leandra joined him on the rickety table. Only a share of Leandra's toast pacified him.

Quiet conversation and the drone of cooking bridged Marian through another seven pieces of toast; two for her and her Mother, three for Bethany. She decided no more for Gamlen for weaseling her Mother's share in the first batch. After giving the mabari his own breakfast, Marian passed around the chipped plates to the table's occupants until the door of her shared bedroom with her sister opened. By the doorway Bethany stood, still adorably bleary from sleep; the sight almost made her drop a plate on her uncle's forehead. Her sister was growing more beautiful by the day, especially in a particular area; Bethany's favorite nightgown was getting a bit tight around the chest. Marian averted her eyes.

"Good morn-" Bethany started but trailed off as her nose wrinkled. Sleep cleared from her features and looked at the plate of toasts in Marian's hand. She rushed to Marian's side. "Are those Orlesian toasts?"

"Indeed," Marian said and offered the plate to her sister. "Can't have _my_ dear Bethy lacking in nutrition, can I?" she finished as she pinched Bethany's cheek.

"And there she goes again," Leandra sighed despite the smile on her face. "Doting as always."

"How can I not with a sister like this?" Marian laughed as she patted Bethany's cheek, trying to ignore how soft and smooth it was.

"Thank you, Sister. You really shouldn't have," Bethany said as she took the plate then planted a kiss on the corner of Marian's lips. The older Hawke could only return the bright smile on her sister's face as they joined the rest of the family for breakfast. Discreetly, she watched Bethany from across the table. Oh, how her heart soared with that little kiss. Filial and chaste it may be, but it was enough for Marian. Just because she had accepted her..._inappropriate_ desires towards Bethany didn't mean she would act upon them. Being the loving sister had been enough for her; it should always be enough.

"Your toasts are getting cold, Marian," Leandra commented.

"Ah, of course!" Marian snapped out of her thoughts and fumbled with her silverware, dropping a fork as she did. She immediately reached over the table for it but Bethany was already upon it, bent over nicely before her, deep and ample cleavage on display. Marian's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. Gamlen, greedy but apparently a gentleman, looked away as he stole a toast from the preoccupied Marian.

Bethany straightened up and smiled at Marian, which turned to a smirk. "Why are you blushing?"

Marian shrugged, not noticing her lesser plate. It wasn't the first time she was caught staring and she already had an excuse handy for such a case. "Just jealous of your assets," she said, gesturing to the vast expanse of Bethany's chest.

"You're such a wretch!" Bethany cried and stood up, walking to the counter. "I can't help it if they're like this," she said as she returned to the table, offering Marian a new fork.

"You're perfect as you are, Bethy." Marian took the fork and smiled, careful to avert her eyes from her sister. If she stared anymore she might give herself away.

Humor, doting, and nonchalance; her greatest weapons against assaulting Bethany.

She both cursed and thanked the Maker for gifting her family with fine features.

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><p>"What do you think of Anders?" Bethany asked quietly as she sneaked a glance at the mage in question.<p>

Marian, busy looting the increasingly bloody and sandy corpses, didn't bother to think nor look up as she said, "He's a great healer." They have finished the last of the Tal-Vashoth stragglers in the Wounded Coast. Being fairer and used to Ferelden's colder climate, Marian couldn't be any happier that the task was finally done and she'd soon be out of the sun. Still, Bethany's distracting fidgeting told her she wished to hear more. Marian chuckled. "Don't worry, I still prefer your magic fingers."

"I mean, as a person." Bethany sighed and fumbled with the staff in her hands. "Doesn't he remind you of father?"

"_What_?" Marian blurted out as she snapped straight on her feet and looked at Bethany. She knew very well what her sister meant, or what she thought she meant anyway; if Anders was like Malcolm he was beau-material. Anders and Aveline looked at her oddly, no doubt surprised by her outburst. Bethany, meanwhile, seemed ready to clamp a hand over her mouth. Marian coughed and cleared her trousers of sand, then thumbed over to a nearby ledge. "Let's talk over _there,_" she said, waving off to her other companions with a smile. Bethany joined the older Hawke while the other companions continued huddling beneath their precious shade.

The sisters had just sat over the ledge when Marian hissed, "Anders and Father? Do you have eyes? They're nothing alike!"

"But they're both dedicated to freedom and the healing arts," Bethany countered then looked over her shoulder to Anders. "And he's quite a looker, don't you think?"

Marian was caught between shaking Bethany by the shoulders and booting Anders out of their circle. She'd do the latter in a heartbeat but despite what she said Anders really was the better healer. "Looks aren't everything and besides, he has an angry spirit in him. Father didn't have that, did he?" Marian said again as she took Bethany's hand in her own and gave her sister an earnest look; proper for an older sister notwithstanding her mind screaming _"She wants to date Anders, stop her!"_

"I suppose so..." Bethany sighed and looked sheepishly at her. "So you won't see him no matter what?"

_See him?_ Marian's brows furrowed. "What?" she said again, caught off-guard twice within an hour.

Bethany shrugged as she pulled her hand away from her sister, then looked over to the vast sea before them. "He asked me to play bridge between you two," she said, idly swinging her legs over the ledge. "He would've done it himself but it's just awkward after...you know."

"Of course," Marian chuckled with relief. How could she not know, or forget for that matter. Anders, whom she only knew barely a day then, suddenly told her not to fall for him just because she was gracious enough to accept his compliment. Maker, the restraint it took not to laugh at his face. The same restraint it took not to do the same now. She threw an arm around Bethany's shoulder and pulled her close. "And I thought you were asking me because you wanted him!"

"Me? You thought..." Bethany said then turned beet red. "Maker, no!"

"Not your type then?" Marian ribbed as she squeezed her sister's arm. She then realized it was first time her sister even broached the subject of romance with her. Ah, sweet Bethany, such a late bloomer. Deciding it was time to learn of the potential bastards who'd steal her sister, Marian asked, "Say, what _is _your type?"

Bethany looked away from her sister and back to the sea, pushing her hair back as she usually did whenever nervous. "I-I haven't really thought about it. I'm an apostate, after all," she stammered.

Unrelenting, Marian prodded. "So was Father, and here we are, born by his type. I hear even Anders got around," she said, mussing Bethany's hair. "Come on, just think about it!"

Bethany wrinkled her brows as she leaned against Marian's shoulder, looking thoughtful. The scent of sea, sweat, and old cabbage clung to the younger Hawke; certainly not befitting of the beauty that was Bethany. She really needed to get her out of Lowtown soon. As Marian pondered which noble she should rob, Bethany sighed. "Nothing comes to mind, Sister," the younger Hawke said as she looked at her, sheepish. "Someone like you, I suppose?"

Marian considered it a feat that she kept her face straight and not faint with happiness. Instead, she pulled Bethany close and kissed her on the forehead. She did that often enough for it to pass as chaste. "Oh, Bethany," Marian sighed, smiling in content. "Sometimes I wish you'd never grow up."

Bethany pouted then flicked her sister on the nose. "I _am _already grown up."

Marian shook her head and gave her sister's shoulder a vigorous rub. "But you'll always be my Bethy."

Bethany graced her with a smile. "Thanks, Sister."

That word again. Marian forced a grin.

"Hawke!" Aveline called. "We don't have all day!"

Marian looked over her shoulder to her tall companion. "Yes, Guard-Captain!" She got up on her feet and offered Bethany a hand. "A hand, my Lady?" Marian said with a wink.

Bethany smirked as she took Marian's hand and was promptly pulled to her feet. As they walked back to join their companions, Marian again cursed the Maker for her lot.

A daily occurrence for her, it seemed.

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><p>"Why? Why do you say these things!" Bethany cried.<p>

On impulse, Marian whipped her head towards her sister. Bethany was flushed and panting as she glared at Isabela. Alarmed, the older Hawke abandoned her conversation with Aveline and stepped between the pirate and sister. "We've talked about Bethany and gutting, have we not?" Marian asked Isabela with a deadly glare.

Isabela shook her head as she held her hands up before her. "I just said how going here by my free will felt so wrong, like-"

"Don't say it!" Bethany pleaded.

Both Marian and Isabela turned to Bethany with a quizzical look. As the sisters' eyes met, a flush of red immediately raced to the younger Hawke's face. Marian's brow lifted. "Are you alright?" she asked, reaching to Bethany's cheek. Marian felt her sister flinch from the touch.

"Yes, I am," Bethany breathed as she withdrew her gaze and pulled away. "Let's just go."

As Bethany scurried out of the barracks, Marian turned to the pirate. "Felt so wrong like...?"

"Like diddling a sister," Isabela shrugged.

Marian blanched as her jaw hung open.

"Whaaat?" Isabela whined as she crossed her arms. "And just to get it out of the way I have never diddled a sister." She smirked. "Well, except Chantry sisters..."

Marian recovered enough after that. Reflecting Bethany, the older Hawke threw her arms as she cried, "_Why? Why_ do you say these things?"


	3. UST

A/N: Better late than never. I shant regale you why, just enjoy please!

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><p>Marian feigned reading as she lay languidly on the bottom bunk of their ratty excuse for a bed. From behind her book, the older Hawke discreetly watched her sister by the rickety dresser, engaged in the nightly ritual of brushing her hair. She couldn't help but worry about the girl; her younger sister had been acting...<em>peculiar<em>, since her outburst in the barracks. Bethany could no longer hold her gaze, would flinch at the slightest touch and grew inexplicably annoyed whenever she flirted with clients. So she had to put on a bit of charm to close some deals, nothing new.

…

Her face crumpled with a thought.

Maybe Bethany had reached her rebellious phase (Maker forbid!) and was too embarrassed to be seen with her. Images of Bethany gallivanting with whores and flipping tables while drunk at the Blooming Rose filled her mind.

Marian shook her head as her hands trembled with the book. No, no, this was dear sweet Bethy after all. The girl was probably just in her monthly cycle. Right, that. Marian heaved a sigh and flipped a page, stealing another glance at her sister and found the latter staring with half-lidded eyes at nothing in particular. Thinking her sister was sleepy, Marian regarded Bethany. "Do you want to turn in early, Bethy? I could move to the other room," she offered.

The younger Hawke did not respond.

Marian smirked. Bethany must be really sleepy. Waving a hand exaggeratedly, Marian asked: "Penny for your thoughts, Bethy?"

It was only then she caught Bethany's attention. Marian failed to suppress a smirk at the obvious surprise on her sister's face and grew more amused at the faint pink that tinged Bethany's cheeks. The younger Hawke was easily flustered around her lately, almost as much as Bethany around Isabela. That was saying a lot considering she wasn't as playful as the pirate. As Marian pondered her sister's reverie, Bethany asked: "I'm sorry, _Sister. _Were you saying something?"

Marian tsked as she laid the book on her lap and repeated the question. Bethany, polite as she was, declined and offered Marian more light. She tried not to stare as Bethany resumed brushing her hair, instead turning to her book. Oh, what she wouldn't do to bury her face in that dark river of silken heaven. That simple thought sent desire rushing through her body; she could feel her nipples harden beneath her shift. Damn. Marian dismissed her want by declining her sister's offer and resumed reading. Yes, yes...nothing like a graphic retelling of how Lord so-and-so got plundered by his Orlesian paramour to distract her from her wanting to plunder her own sister. Bloody hell. At least it was a start.

Marian was just getting to the good bits of man-loving when Bethany cried: "Maker, aren't you cold?" She looked up in time to catch the ratty blanket thrown her way. "Cover up, will you!" the younger Hawke added.

Marian lifted a brow at Bethany; her sister was flushed and panting, as if she had run a mile. Another wave of desire; hence she disguised her want with laughing. She looked at herself for a moment before covering herself with the drab fabric; perhaps a bit of modesty was called for considering her thoughts. And some deflection. Giving her sister her cockiest smile, Marian ribbed. "Oh, Bethy, it's not like you haven't seen me naked already."

Bethany seemed like she swallowed her tongue and Marian could have sworn she had never seen her sister so flustered. _Oh Maker, she's not on to me, is she? _Marian dismissed the thought and buried her face back into the book. She decided to exercise more discretion towards her sister.

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><p>The weather agreed with Marian and her group on their way to Sundermount; the sun was out, even if a bit too much for her complexion, and the fresh breeze a welcome reprieve from the stench of vomit and refuse that constantly hung in Lowtown. The bright greenery, floral bloom by the roadside and distant cheer of songbirds were likewise pleasant. A perfect day for a picnic, truly. Still, Marian couldn't help but feel lonely without her sister; it would have been nice to see the delight on Bethany's face as she saw the sights. The younger Hawke always took more delight than her whenever they strolled in nature.<p>

"You sure this is just a delivery?" Varric asked as he pulled beside Marian.

Marian only nodded, still distracted with her thoughts. With a smirk, the dwarf added, "Are we delivering a dragon? Or something just as dangerous that requires complete silence and concentration?"

Lifting a brow, Marian turned to Varric. Amusement was plain on his features. She grinned in reply; Varric could be so insightful. "No, but close," Marian finally replied as she pointed to her pack. "A dragon egg, actually."

Varric shook his head and snorted. "How is that not as dangerous? Seriously, Hawke, you alright? The 'sighing maiden' routine doesn't suit you." He then shot a glance toward Anders. "Missing somebody?"

Marian laughed heartily and slapped her friend's arm. "As a matter of fact, yes." She heard Anders squeak from behind them but paid it no heed. It was nigh time he knew he stood no chance. "I just worry for Bethany. She's down with a fever," she said quietly.

"Oh, don't worry about her too much, Hawke. Sunshine's a big girl," Varric offered with bright grin. "She's probably healing herself right this moment," he said with a shrug.

"I don't think it works like that," Marian sighed then made a grand gesture around her. "She would've loved the scenery here, you know."

"You can always take her next time," said Varric just as Aveline joined them. Impatience was evident on her freckled face as she noted, "And the sooner we deliver the amulet the sooner we could return to Kirkwall and see Bethany."

_Can't argue with that logic. _With a smile, Marian matched the guard-captain's pace. She looked forward to finding what Dalish trinket she would bring home to Bethany.

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><p>Marian waved farewell to Merrill as the latter entered her new homehovel. Maker, when she thought of bringing a Dalish trinket home she never would have imagined she'd be taking an _actual _Dalish. She had wanted to decline taking the girl with her; a pretty elf like her had no business living alone in shady Kirkwall. Coupled with being a mage (a _blood mage, _to make it worse) Merrill really had no business in Kirkwall. It could only end in rape or death. Both if Merrill was really unlucky. Still, that 'don't-kick-my-puppy' voice and mournful eyes got the better of Marian. It reminded her of Bethany. That alone was enough for her to promise the Keeper she'd take care of Merrill. A promise she intended to keep, for sure.

"Sweet girl," Varric remarked as they strolled their way out of the alienage.

"For a blood—"

"—dy elf," Marian supplied before Anders could finish the phrase. The healer immediately bowed with remorse. She then turned to Varric. "And you know what happens to sweet bloody elves living alone, right?" she said cautiously. Aveline nodded with a frown.

The dwarf rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. "Yeah, I'll have to talk to my contacts about that right now," he said as they reached the stairs leading to Gamlen's hovel.

"I'll have my men keep an eye on her as well," Aveline offered. Marian nodded appreciatively then thumbed to her house.

"Well, if you'll excuse me...I have to check on my sister."

"Do you want me to have a look?" Anders offered sheepishly.

"Thank you, Anders, but you seem tired," Marian declined with a shake her head; it was a kind gesture, but she'd rather not have the man (anyone else, for that matter) lay a hand on her sister. She placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Anyway, she's probably better by now."

Anders nodded as Marian made her way to the stairs leading her poor abode. "Very well. I'll send some remedies to be sure. And give her my regards."

Varric nudged the healer with an elbow and a smirk on his face. Marian could only roll her eyes; Anders couldn't be any more obvious. Gracious as ever, Marian bowed her head with a smile. "My thanks, Anders. I'll relay Bethany your regards. I will see you soonest," she finished with a curtsy. Both men bowed, along with Aveline. Ahh, thirty sovereigns and an expedition away and already acting like a noble. Marian smirked at the thought as she made her way inside of the hovel. Leandra was nowhere in sight while Gamlen was face-first on the rickety table, snoring. Marian grimaced; she was standing by the door and already she could smell the liquor off her uncle. Considering how poor they were it was a wonder how Gamlen had enough coin to spend to get himself drunk. _Better not be Mother's stipend, _she thought. Some shakedowns were in order if that was the case.

"Ah, you're back!" Leandra exclaimed as she stepped out of Marian's room. The mother and daughter met half-way and gave each other a kiss and a hug. A moment of that and Leandra wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. "You need a bath, Love," she remarked.

Marian laughed and hugged her mother closer, even as the latter pulled away. "And here I thought you had an iron nose, seeing how you share a room with that thing," Marian said dryly as she thrust her nose toward her slumbering uncle, winning a stifled laugh from Leandra. She only released her mother upon the threat she'd give her daughter a bath herself. "Anyway, how's Bethany?"

"She's better now. Even went out with Isabela earlier," Leandra replied as she fished a battered kettle from the nearby counter.

Marian lifted a brow. "Is anyone else with them?"

"None that I know of..." Leandra pondered, kettle in hand. Her face lit up as if remembering something. "Oh, but she had Bethany dressed up before going. A party, perhaps?"

"Rose," Gamlen interrupted, not even lifting his head from the table.

"What?" the Hawkes asked in unison as they both regarded Gamlen.

"Saw 'er at the Rose," Gamlen related as he managed to tilt his head to face Marian. A goofy smirk formed on his face. "Dressed so cant'ly you'd think sheesah worker deh."

Leandra gasped while Marian blanched. Within a heartbeat the eldest Hawke child was already out of the hovel. The niggling thought of a rebellious Bethany spurred her to walk faster.

Isabela and Bethany. At the Blooming Rose.

An image of a very drunk Bethany with a conniving Isabela, surrounded by whores, filled Marian's mind.

Marian ran, cursing and promising to the Maker that if her paranoia proved true, Castillon would be the least of Isabela's worries.

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><p>It wasn't paranoia. Well, it was lesser than the dozens of whores Marian had imagined, but it was just as terrible, for it was reality. Bethany, straddled and kissed by a whore, surrounded by spectators that cheered the pair on. If that wasn't enough, the trollop's hands were beneath her sister's skirt - and judging how flustered Bethany was she was either severely drunk or getting diddled right there. In the midst of strangers. Worst of all, she wasn't that trollop sucking face with her sister.<p>

_Not now, Marian._

She brushed away the last thought and found her voice, screaming, "BETHANY!"

At the sound of her name Bethany pulled away from the whore and looked sleepily in Marian's general direction.

Definitely drunk.

Marian stomped her way to Bethany, brushing past the gawking patrons and workers. She unceremoniously pulled the whore away from her sister's lap, not even sparing the woman a glance. She could only focus on Bethany, who seemed drunker than she was when she had her first drink in the Hanged Man. An observation further reinforced when Bethany asked, "'allo, Shister. When d'ya came back?" Marian almost wept when Bethany stumbled to her and fell into her arms. The scent of Bethany, wine, and whore struck her nostrils.

She simultaneously wanted to kiss and stab someone.

"Hawke, I can-"

"Not now, Isabela!" Marian snapped and kept her attention on Bethany, who seemed lost in the haze of pleasure. Was it because of that snogfest with the whore? She grimaced. Her jealousy could wait; Bethany may hurl any moment now. Marian gently tapped her sister's cheek as she asked, "Bethy, sweetheart, you alright?"

Bethany made a small sound of assent. Satistfied, Marian heaved a sigh of relief and was about to escort her sister out of the brothel when the latter started sobbing against her chest.

"Bethany! What's-"

"It's your fault! _Your _bloody fault!" Bethany cried her reply as she pounded her fists against Marian's chest, further confusing the older Hawke. Marian had never known Bethany to be an obnoxious drunk; she was more of a giggly and talkative drunk. Like Gamlen. Oh dear. She'd rather not go with that comparison. Ordinarily she would have laughed at the situation but the menacing bouncers heading their way drained her humor.

"Err...we should take her out of here," Isabela whispered and thumbed over to the very angry Lusine.

Marian glared at Isabela. She was too miffed with the pirate to have anything to do with her at the moment. "_I _should take her out of here, you take care of the mess." No sooner said Marian had already lifted her sister in her arms. She had half-expected Bethany to kick and scream but the girl only continued to weep, settling against her neck as she moaned and whimpered about an imaginary fault. Marian swallowed hard at the feeling of her sister's smooth face against her skin, vaguely hearing Isabela saying something. The warmness brought by alcohol to Bethany's skin did not help her any. Marian tried to ignore the sudden pressure in her belly. She was at fault, she supposed, but there was no way Bethany should know, shouldn't she?

It was then Bethany's cry stole her thoughts.

"CHANGE YOUR MOTHER!"

_Oh Maker, if only I could._

Marian bore the thought as she smuggled her sister out of the Blooming Rose.


End file.
